Tugboat racing
I’ve been down with a cold most of the week, and even though today I don’t feel quite as bad as I’ve felt the last three days I decided that this would be a good time to take the (grade separated, and easily graded) Springwater Trail from Sellwood over to the Hawthorne Bridge. I wasn’t exactly dawdling, but I wasn’t going particularly quickly when I reached the mouth of the Ross Island lagoon, but when I noticed that the Western Comet was heading south it didn’t take very long at all for me to realize that one of the two destinations for it was likely to be on the NORTH side of the Hawthorne Bridge, which would mean that I’d end up cooling my heels if it made it to the Ross Island Bridge before I made it to the lift span on the Hawthorne Bridge.
So I stomped on the gas and rode down to the Hawthorne Bridge as if I was being pursued by an army of political canvassers. And about two blocks after I crossed the bridge I heard a chorus of hoots from the Western Comet, as if it was saying “hoo yoo, here I am! Time to lift the bridge, please!”
Which I didn’t particularly care about anymore, because now I was on the correct side of the river for work-related purposes.